


Vulcans Do Not Dream

by MarinaMariana



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:43:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarinaMariana/pseuds/MarinaMariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock was warm.<br/>He could hear the muffled hum of Enterprise’s engines. The distant vibration far below him was as familiar as his own heartbeat. Or as his lover’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulcans Do Not Dream

Spock was warm.

He could hear the muffled hum of Enterprise’s engines. The distant vibration far below him was as familiar as his own heartbeat. Or as his lover’s.

Vulcans do not dream.

Spock stretched, eyes closed, rolling his wrists and arching his back. He could feel the body next to him shifting as he rolled over. He reached out an arm to gather Jim close to his chest.

Jim was warm and pliant with sleep.

Jim made a soft, sleepy noise as he pressed close to Spock, drawing a blanket over their tangled bodies. Spock could see in his mind’s eye the way his dark lashes would lay against golden skin, his brow smooth and untroubled. He could feel his breathing, steady and even.

Vulcans do not dream.

Jim snuck a hand inside Spock’s shirt, traveling around his waist until it came to rest over his heart. Spock hugged him tightly, just shy of painful, and rubbed a soothing circle on his back when he made a soft _oof_ sound in protest. He buried his nose in Jim’s hair, smelling Starfleet regulation soap and _Jim_.

Spock sighed softly.

He kept his eyes closed. It was better this way. He raised one hand to stroke the back of Jim’s head gently.

Vulcans do not dream.

He pressed one, two kisses to Jim’s forehead. He felt solid and warm. He felt so real.

“Spock,” Jim whispered against his chest.

Spock’s hand fisted in the blonde hair.

“No,” he whispered back.

Soft lips were at his throat, his chin, his ear.

“Please, a few more minutes--”

“Spock,” Jim whispered again.

Spock kept his eyes squeezed shut. His arms were iron bars around Jim’s body. But Jim was already drawing away, leaving a cool spot above his heart where his hand had been resting.

“Vulcans do not dream,” and the soft whisper was Jim’s voice, was his own.

 

Spock opened his eyes slowly. His bed was cold and empty. He rolled his head listlessly to the side to check the clock on his bedside table.

Nyota would arrive in a few hours to pick him up for the funeral.

He closed his eyes, opened them again. The room around him remained unchanged. His apartment felt stark and bare in the pre-dawn chill.

He reached for it, but the dream had already slipped away.

He rolled over to face the opposite wall. He had been asked, as first officer, to give the eulogy. He had declined.

_Vulcans do not dream_ , he told himself.

**Author's Note:**

> *triumphantly makes entrance into AO3 with a 419 word drabble*
> 
> Thank you to the lovely Kim for being my beta when she could have been sleeping!


End file.
